Musings
by Mosaic505
Summary: Dean's got time to muse as Sam sleeps.


Dean sometimes thought the Impala drove itself. During the twilight hours when the veils lifted across the skies to reveal brilliant pinpricks of light from the myriad of stars, his baby would take control allowing him to gather his thoughts.

As mistresses went she was easy to maintain even if she did drink rather a lot. A light touch from him was all that was needed but if necessary she could take the rough with the smooth. Her throaty roar echoed as she raced down the road, a lone competitor showing off to her owner.

Dean glanced sideways at his brother asleep on the passenger's side, his head resting against the window. He smiled to himself as his fingers tapped gently on the wheel, a contented feeling drifting over him. Sam had been sleeping quietly for nearly three hours, a feat never achieved in the cheap motel rooms they often found themselves in. The Impala had once again proven she could seduce any man, his brother no exception.

Sam would probably laugh if he said it out loud but Dean thought of the Impala as part of his family; after all she had been there throughout his entire life always ready to accommodate whatever need she was required to fulfil. A favourite hiding place when he was a child, his father counting to fifty before announcing 'coming whether you're ready or not', his mother standing in the doorway of their home laughing as John pretended not to hear the giggling coming from the backseat of the car. A place of joy and excitement as they brought his little baby brother home for the first time Dean pointing out important locations, _"Look Sammy, there's the sweet store"_ and _"That's our park Sammy. Don't worry, I'll show you around", _much to the amusement of his mother. A safe haven when Dean's world turned upside down on that fateful night and childhood innocence was lost to weighty responsibilities, _"Dean, look after your brother", "Dean, shoot first - ask questions later"_. Finally a place to call his own when his father acknowledged his son's growing independence, throwing him the keys with a _"keep her safe or else" _and Dean was left in no doubt the threat was for real.

She was his and OK she did have a little rust here and there but she'd never complained. Never would. He knew he belonged to her just as much as she to him; the ride never felt the same when someone else's hands were upon the wheel. For many miles he had thought he ought to oil her doors, the squeaking waxing and waning at each use but through the long nights as they prowled the seemingly endless roads he had become tuned in to the many tones of her voice. A roar here as she surged forward to face the future and whatever it may bring; a sigh there as she settled to sleep after a long journey. He didn't have the heart to silence her.

It was often said that a dog was a man's best friend but the Impala was Dean's watchdog; the black beast that guarded the threshold between real and what most people would call fantasy. Dean had long since discovered that in his world reality and fantasy had collided, intertwined until they were one and the same and as much as he preferred things to be black and white they were often shrouded in grey and decisions had consequences; consequences which he had to live with. The effort it took to lock away his thoughts and - god help him - his feelings sometimes drained him although an outsider would see only a cocky young man without a care in the world. Sam would know otherwise seemingly able to read him like one of his beloved books and so Dean would often take measures to throw him off track, playing dumb and avoiding eye contact, preventing his brother from peering into his soul.

He had a soul - he knew he did. It just scared him sometimes, that deep dark pit that he knew led to a helter-skelter ride he didn't want to get on. Over the years, especially after Sam had left for college, he had learnt to erect a fence around it and screen it from his conscious mind although it was sometimes an unwelcome destination in his dreams. Judgement would make it's voice heard followed swiftly by Doubt, a whispering that would insinuate he could have done better; he hadn't been fast enough, smart enough, efficient enough. Disappointment would join the fray mimicking his father's timbre exactly, berating Dean for not doing a proper job. For letting his brother influence his decisions and pandering to the boy's more liberal side. He didn't run from it but accepted it as his punishment and awoke vowing to be stronger, faster, more determined. It would last until Sam turned 'that' look upon him and his resolve would melt in the face of such intensity. He often thought that it was a good thing they were such close brothers as under other circumstances Sam would probably make his greatest enemy.

Sam knew him like no other. As much as Dean tried to mask his true self behind a wall of indifference Sam knew how to search out the cracks, scraping away often faster than Dean could repair the damage. At first it had bothered him to know that his brother could delve so deep but lately he had been more willing to let Sam see his fears and concerns, anything to keep him from leaving him again. Sam had been right, he could have gone searching for Dad alone but as he had said at the time he just didn't want to any more. He had been missing his younger brother, needing to re-establish that connection as the tenuous one to his father threatened to disappear.

A mumbling from beside him interrupted Dean's thoughts. Sam was beginning to stir, eyes blinking rapidly as he yawned and Dean once again felt contentment drift over him. Judgement, Doubt and Disappointment be damned - they weren't invited on this gig. It was psychic boy wonder and his oh so handsome partner against the terrors that roamed the dark world.


End file.
